Oot on the Branch, the Fruit is Gey Ripe [Minerva/Hermione - PG] Part 1
Author: songquake
Title: Oot on the Branch, the Fruit is Gey Ripe
Prompt: #63 Submitted by: csi_vixen
Pairing: Minerva/Hermione
Rating: PG (very fleeting expletives)
Warnings: Adult language! Angst! Homophobia! Prolonged UST! Age Disparity=55 years (Hermione's 26, Minerva's 81), AU (Dumbledore lives, Snape doesn't) and EWE. Failure to smut.
Word Count: 11,619
Summary: (Lifted entirely from the prompt!) Hermione could have done anything, had anyone; she is the smartest witch of her age, a war hero, and attractive. So when she comes back to Hogwarts and takes over the Library from Madame Pince, Minerva is concerned. She tries to figure out the reason the girl has withdrawn into the cloisters of the Hogwarts Library, seeking to draw her out, and is drawn in herself instead.
Notes: *AU in that Dumbledore never died, though the majority of Deathly Hallows (sans epilogue) did. Mostly because I didn't want to create a new Headmaster or Headmistress. Lazy author. Also, EWE.
*The title is a phrase that means, "No risk, no reward." It, plus words such as "fesh" (fuss) and "ken" (understand), and a few other Scottish phrases, were gleaned from Scottish Journey. Apologies for any misrepresentation of the Scottish tongue; it's my fault, not my betas'.
*My betas-who-are-not-to-be-named were wonderful, and Britpicked this very carefully. I shall credit them when the reveals are posted. But You-Know-Who's, you are my angels and I love you.
*csi_vixen, I took a LOT of liberty with the prompt. I hope you (and others) like it anyway!
*Also, many thanks to the mods for being so accommodating. You rock!
~*~OOT ON THE BRANCH, THE FRUIT IS GEY RIPE~*~
From the Personal Diary of Minerva C. McGonagall
4th August, 2006
It's still rather queer for me when Albus takes on a former student for a staff position. It's inevitable; the majority of the UK's talented wizards and witches come through Hogwarts. But it wasn't quite so strange when Aurora and Rolanda joined - I had been at Hogwarts with them, but since they were several years younger, they'd learned to respect me as Head Girl before I returned to teach. And they immediately felt more like peers.
In fact, the last time I was so unsettled was when Albus, in a fit of magnanimous forgiveness after the First War, offered Severus asylum in the form of the Potions appointment. Not even twenty-one, and let loose on the children!
But that was then. Water long under my ramshackle bridge, as it were.
Ms Granger H.G. has taken up Irma's old position, and that's certainly a boon for us. She'll almost certainly be kinder to the children than Irma was, and at least as organised. Albus claims she has some 'fascinating' and 'revolutionary' ideas about reorganising the library and its collection.
I am curious, though, as to why she would desire to become a librarian here at Hogwarts. Certainly, the access to research materials is unparalleled, but she has returned to do research several times in the period since her NEWT's. Hogwarts is hardly the place for a young lady to begin building a life.
Well, we'll see what it's about. I've invited our young librarian to afternoon tea tomorrow.
~*~
At precisely three o'clock, the portrait guarding Minerva's quarters announced the arrival of 'Madame Hermione Granger.'
"Let her in, Aine. Mouse tail."
Swinging open, the portrait hole revealed a young woman in robes as prim and conservative as one could buy without seeming to come from an earlier decade. Or century. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, the curls gathered into a luxurious pillow behind her head.
She looked terribly nervous for some reason and was trying to hide it by tightly clutching a small potted plant in front of her. The plant seemed somehow familiar. Perhaps Minerva had seen one on one of those rare occasions of visiting Pomona in the greenhouses. The purple flowers were awfully pretty and carried a very mild scent of mint. Minerva's nose twitched as she took in the odour.
"Hi, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said.
"Minerva," Minerva corrected as Hermione crossed the threshold. "I'm no longer your professor. Do call me Minerva, Miss...Hermione." Minerva chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish.
Hermione echoed the chuckle. "I suppose it will take awhile for all of us to acclimatise to being colleagues. Oh, and before I forget -" she said as she presented the odd plant.
Minerva accepted it, looked at it. "Thank you, but you truly didn't need to carry a gift. It's just tea." And, Minerva thought, taking in the striking businesslike beauty of the woman before her, perhaps the first of many visits you will make to my quarters.
Hermione huffed, though she blushed as she did. "My parents taught me better than that," she asserted. "Manners. One should always bring a gift when visiting someone's home for the first time, especially if the visit is for a meal. And as I don't know what sort of wine or tea you favour," she shrugged, gesturing to the plant Minerva had just lain alongside the tea service on the sitting room's table, "I thought you would appreciate this."
Minerva smiled, charmed by the younger woman's awkwardness. It's good to see she's not all brash intellect and preternatural self-possession. One would never guess from her comportment in public. "I must admit that, while it is lovely," she indicated the blossoms, "I don't quite recognise it. Is it Muggle?" she asked, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself.
"You don't?" Hermione asked, her face betraying something akin to shock.
"No. I was pants at Herbology. Now you know my secret." Minerva took a steadying breath to tamp down her defensiveness.
"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to offend," Hermione said softly, scuffing her shoe a bit on the floor. "It is Muggle, but a great many wizarding folk use it as well."
"What is it, then?" Minerva asked, nodding.
Hermione looked directly at Minerva and her eyes took on a calculating, mischievous look. "Hm. I reckon you'll figure it out eventually." She smiled with deviant innocence, the sort of expression teenagers were particularly adept at. Minerva wondered that the other woman had not put that smile away with other childish things. Then again, she'd not had much of an adolescence to speak of.
"You won't tell me? What if I were allergic?" Minerva protested.
Hermione snorted, snorted at her! "If it were something you knew you were allergic to, you would have recognised the plant. Besides, I've heard certain rumours... I'm certain you'll sort it out."
Minerva glanced again at the plant. It lacked the five-pronged leaf of cannabis, so she surely did not know what sort of 'rumours' Hermione could be referencing.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're impudent?" she muttered as Hermione sat before the plant whilst she played Mother. Raising her voice, she asked, "How do you take your tea, dear?"
"Milk only."
"A woman after my own heart," Minerva commented as she served up two cups of Lady Grey with moderate splashes of milk. She sat. "Help yourself to some sandwiches or pastries. The elves have provided quite the bounty for us today."
She caught Hermione trying not to wrinkle her nose and remembered the fruitless crusade her former student had started to bring freedom to the Hogwarts house-elves. Which reminded her of a question she had been meaning to ask.
"Hermione, why did you decide to leave the Department for Relations with Magical Creatures? You seemed to be making such a difference there."
"Mm." Hermione raised a finger as she swallowed her mouthful of scone and cream. "I made much less headway than it might have seemed, certainly less than I'd hoped. Mostly there were surface changes - like changing the Department's name - but there's not been much movement at all in cultural attitudes." She paused, taking another sip of tea. "It was frustrating, hitting the same brick walls over and over."
Minerva examined the other woman's face, her posture. Something about the explanation seemed a bit off, a bit too rehearsed. "And that's all?" she inquired. "But why take on this position? It can hardly be challenging for a witch of your intellect."
Is she blushing? Is it from being caught out, or something else?
"Well, there is that, but I need some time to regroup, do a bit of my own research that has gone neglected, and, well, you must remember my love affair with books."
Minerva acknowledged that she did with a crisp nod.
"I honestly do want to influence the children, the teens to love and cherish books as well, to see them as friends, as intimate friends, rather than as adversaries. To see the library and its librarian as less adversarial. To nurture their curiosity and their awe by showing how many answers - and stories - they can find and yet still be able to imagine new things, think in new ways."
"You do have the mind of an educator about you," Minerva commented. "Those are ambitious goals."
"I hope the Headmaster might allow me to teach the first- and second-years by House next year. Not yet, of course; not until I've got my bearings and established my authority among the current lot of students. But I can't believe that Wizarding primary schools don't teach library skills at all to the children."
"No," conceded her colleague. "It would be nearly useless, don't you think? Libraries generally don't hold texts that are at the reading levels of primary school students."
Hermione snorted, again, and said, "You do realise that Muggle primary and secondary schools both have their own libraries and secondary students receive library lessons, don't you?"
"No, I didn't, quite," Minerva confessed, shocked. "I, ah, attended Hogwarts before Albus established Muggle Studies as part of the curriculum."
"Well," said Hermione, peering across the table as if she were wearing spectacles and trying to indicate a librarian's disapproval as Irma had done, "I think it's high time for Wizarding libraries to start stocking child-appropriate volumes. It's not as though they couldn't expand the spaces to accommodate the books."
"Why does this seem so critical to you? Hogwarts students have done well enough for the many centuries they've been encountering this library first."
Hermione sighed with a touch of exasperation. "Being in a Muggle mixed library meant that children learned library manners early. We could browse through a good number of books to see what might be interesting, and in the process come across many titles we wouldn't have otherwise seen. We could read books without our parents having to buy them. It also meant that the librarians could guide us on finding books appropriate for our age, assignments, interests, and intelligence. I started being directed to adult-level nonfiction by the time I was nine."
"Swot," Minerva said fondly.
"As if you weren't, Minerva McGonagall?"
"Touché, Hermione Granger." Minerva tried her damndest to conceal the shiver she'd felt in her back when Hermione had addressed her by her full name. This was certainly inconvenient; there had never been any indication, at Hogwarts or since, that Hermione had any interest in women, even the swottiest. Minerva decided to redirect the conversation, get a firm reminder that Hermione Granger, attractive as she was, was not available for Hogwarts' resident 'spinster' to court.
"Might I inquire what happened with you and Mr Weasley?"
"You might," replied Hermione, her eyes narrowed and expression guarded.
"Well, what did happen? Seeing the two of you at Hogwarts, and after the Final Battle, I was certain you'd be married and supporting the lot of them - Ronald, Harry, Ginevra, and any offspring - by now."
That drew a wary, weary chuckle. "Let's just say that Ronald and I weren't as well-matched as we'd thought."
And from there, the conversation devolved into pleasantries.
~*~
I've been thinking more and more about H., about that odd conversation we shared just after she arrived. She is a bonny young lass, and has a wit nearly to match Severus'. Certainly to match mine. Not to mention that we can each teach each other things - it's been so long since I've met a woman whose knowledge differed much from my own and yet interested me.
But still there's no sign she sees me as anything but a friend, and even friendship is hard for me to claim.
I've not seen much of her since that one afternoon.
I believe she only leaves the library to eat and sleep. Irma did the same. I can't help but worry that the library might have some strange power to enthral its keepers.
That's silly paranoia, isn't it! Just because I've not seen as much of H.G. as I would like does not mean that she's under the influence of something nefarious. And she's a smart girl - she can take care of herself.
But that doesn't mean I can't have a standing weekly tea with her...
~*~
"He wants me to start instructing all years. Immediately!" Hermione exclaimed as she fairly flounced into the chair beside Minerva's at breakfast.
"Congratulations, Hermione. That's excellent news, both for you and for the children."
Hermione, however, was visibly disturbed. One might even call her usually unflappable self 'upset'.
"I'm not ready, Minerva! This wasn't the plan!"
Minerva had never seen Hermione Granger so high-strung as a student, though she could well imagine what a nuisance she was to her peers when OWL's and NEWT's came along. She glanced sideways at her young colleague. "Can you not introduce the children to proper library etiquette and to how the Hogwarts library is organised? I know they arrive tomorrow, but surely you can write lesson plans to teach them that much before your first classes start."
"But the library's not organised, not in any discernible way. Yes, the volumes are largely grouped by topic and sometimes even by subtopic, but beyond that there seems to be neither rhyme nor reason! What was Madame Pince thinking?" Hermione drummed her fingers on the table in frustration; the silverware and cups of tea danced a bit in response.
"Most likely that a good search would expose students to a greater variety of information than something easy like alphabetical order would. Also that it would keep students a bit more reliant on her expertise."
"The cow," Hermione said bitterly. "Instead she convinced generations of Hogwarts students that libraries are too intricate to bother learning to navigate. And I suppose that this desire to be the Keepers of Knowledge is why librarians in the Wizarding world have never settled on a standard for organisation?"
"Ah, so you have picked up some sense of magical culture whilst at the Ministry of Magic!"
Hermione threw her hands up. "This still doesn't help me instruct students in three days' time."
"How often will you have to teach them?" Minerva asked.
"Once a week. Throughout three days, as I requested the Houses be split up. That's twenty-eight blocks."
"Oh, tell Albus you'll just take them two at a time. At least then you'll only have fourteen. Or a whole year at once, though that's usually ill-advised. Yes, yes. Speak to Albus, let him know not only that this amount of teaching will distract you and the students from utilising the library, but that you haven't enough time or energy to create curricula in two days, and request whether you might begin lessons in the second week of term. By then at least some of the classes will have assignments that would be helped by research," Minerva suggested, a self-satisfied expression stealing over her face.
"Do you think I might be permitted to teach a few spells?"
"I don't see why not - for the children to use in research?"
"Yes, but also to keep down the roar when they are assigned group work or have independent study groups."
"Confirm it with Albus, of course, but those certainly sound like useful spells in a magical education."
"And I can set essays about the spells." Hermione nodded in satisfaction.
She would be one to relish her license to give homework, Minerva thought.
"I ought to get on this right away." Hermione rose to leave.
Minerva glared. "Sit down, silly girl. You'll waste away and, worse, starve your brain if you keep skipping meals."
Hermione sat but protested, "I can find a bite in the kitchens any time I want." She began to serve herself kippers, eggs, toast, fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.
Minerva raised an eyebrow at the protest, given the volume of food collecting on Hermione's plate. "Och, but do you?"
The other woman's shoulders slumped a bit. "No, I suppose not. Or not enough."
~*~
The students have arrived, and in tending to start-of-term duties I haven't had much time to see how H.G. is faring. And yet, I find myself considering her in my spare time. What keeps her cloistered so?
Once again I observe that the wean seem to be coming smaller and younger every year. This year's crop of Gryffindors, at least, makes those Creevey boys seem like giants. Bless their souls.
~*~
The night before Hermione was to teach her first lessons, Minerva came to the Hogwarts library with an elf-provided assortment of food and drink floating behind her. Her young colleague had not been seen all weekend.
The doors were locked and warded. A simple "Alohomora" would be terribly ineffective. Rolling her eyes, Minerva conjured her Patronus and sent the cat to notify the paranoid librarian of her arrival.
Och, she's as bonny as ever! Minerva thought, mentally slipping into her childhood tongue. I am too far gone for this lass.
Hermione still wore robes almost worthy of a Muggle convent, but had rucked up her sleeves so that her forearms, smudged with ancient dust, were exposed. Her wand rested in her hand, as comfortable as one of those Muggle pencils Charity Burbage had always insisted her students use for class. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and her hair framed her face in wild strands where they'd burst free of Hermione's chignon.
Had Minerva believed in angels, surely they would look like this.
"Minerva!" Hermione sounded more than a little surprised to see her standing there.
"Hermione." Minerva smiled. "You look like you've had some fun in there."
Hermione responded with an almost giddy giggle. "Experimental magic is usually fun," she confided. Her mischievous smile was back, her eyes sparkling to rival Albus' twinkling.
"You plan to experiment on the children? All of them, or just the ones who annoy you?" Minerva asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
Hermione laughed. Not just chortled or giggled, but laughed, the freedom of it making the tightly-bound chuckles Minerva had lately heard seem like joy imprisoned by propriety rather than genuine expressions of humour.
Minerva wanted to hear this laugh more often. "I gather you intend to risk them all, then," she said, hoping to provoke some more.
But Hermione was catching her breath. "You misunderstand, though I'm sure the time will come when I'll be seeking your assistance in such trials. No," she blurted as one last laugh bubbled up from her diaphragm, "I've been working on a modification of one of my research spells, to help the children along until I've got this place properly organised."
"Really," Minerva said, her curiosity piqued. "Might I be permitted a preview?"
"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, and in her excitement took Minerva's hand and dashed into the library, the older woman stumbling behind her.
Minerva felt the beginnings of desire, reciprocated desire, stir in her belly. When Hermione finally stopped, Minerva passed her and jerked her hand, twirling her close as if dancing. Wrapping her other arm around Hermione's waist, Minerva raised the hand that joined them and kissed it.
Hermione stiffened. Then she broke away.
"Professor," she started, but Minerva glared at her. "Minerva. I, ah, I'm terribly sorry if I gave the impression of being, er... interested in...."
Bugger. This is what Gryffindor impulsiveness gets you, Minerva.
"Interested in me? Interested in women? Interested in anything outside this library?" Minerva couldn't help it; her tone became increasingly strident of its own accord.
Hermione took a slow, shuddering breath, all fun gone from her expression. "I am interested in things outside this library," she said quietly. "And I'm... I'm interested in you, in some ways. But I'm not interested in dating women."
"I am sorry to have misinterpreted your actions, then," Minerva said rather stiffly, "and for my obviously unwelcome advances."
Hermione looked at her, her brown eyes shining with tears now.
"If -- Oh bugger it, Hermione. If you no longer want to share this experiment with me, or you don't want to explore friendship, tell me and I'll be gone." Minerva began to rebuild her armour of a stern and professional demeanour, bracing herself to leave the library rejected as a lover and a friend.
"No!" Hermione rushed to speak. "No, Minerva, I very much want to show off what I've been working on, and you're the only one who's shown interest in my work or, really, anything about me, since I've arrived." She looked down, awkwardness suffusing her expression and posture. "If you want to see it, anyway."
Minerva looked at the young librarian; she seemed more dejected than should be called for given that she wasn't the one whose advances were spurned. Sharing this with someone who can appreciate it must mean the world to her.
"Oh, I do," Minerva conceded, and watched Hermione's face take on a bit more life. "Frankly, you've got me unbearably curious. And while curiosity may kill the cat, it does not kill the cat Animagus' human form."
Hermione gave a weak chuckle and glanced sideways at her companion, seeming to consider her response. But she must have decided that there was no more clever way to say what she meant: "Alright, then."
She led Minerva to a lectern with a small step near it - clearly available should one of the smaller students need to look at a book on it. Hanging from a pulley Hermione had rigged from the beams at the ceiling (and how she'd managed that, Minerva did not even want to know) was a fairly large basket.
"When I left Hogwarts for uni, I found that, like this one, the university's library was a shambles. It was near impossible to find anything.
"But I'm a witch, right? I thought I could use magic to solve this problem. So one afternoon, whilst researching the separation of the Centaurs from Wizard-kind, I tried Accio."
Minerva winced. She'd tried the same sort of technique as a Transfigurations student and got several goose eggs for her trouble as the books flew at her. "Were you injured?"
Hermione smiled, though a bit grimly. "Thank you for asking. Yes. I was concussed, and ended up at the uni's infirmary. And in that overnight, I spent a good deal of time thinking about how to improve my method of finding not just books, but the right sort of books." She paused. "And literature beyond just bound volumes. I needed to find or create an incantation that would gather the proper resources without, as they say, clobbering me."
"And what did you come up with?" asked Minerva, who had not heard of any witch or wizard's success in refining the blunt instrument of Accio.
"Well, first I came up with 'Omnes literis de hac chria porto me. And I would state the topic I wanted to research first, and in the language I wanted to read."
Minerva was still intrigued, but raised an eyebrow. "That's clever, but does not solve the flying book problem." She glanced up. Suddenly the hanging basket made some sense.
"Indeed, and yes, the basket was my solution. But when I added the indirect object, both the incantation and the ability to use English as the topic's language failed. Fortunately, my Latin is good enough that, given an adequate dictionary, I could translate the topics into Latin and put my books in the basket."
"I see where this would be an issue for many of our students."
"Yes; from what I remember, the children of the Old Families tended to know a fair bit of Latin, and a few swots like myself were studying independently, but the majority of the students just memorise the incantations they're taught rather than understanding what the actual Latin means."
"Lamentable."
"You can raise the issue with Albus," Hermione returned. "My interest this past week has been creating a way to make the spell work without teaching all the children how to translate on my own."
"Of course," murmured Minerva.
"The solution actually came to me when I was remembering the utter nuttiness of my fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A Portkey. Not that I use a Portkey in here, mind, but the theory behind it. Basically, a Portkey is an object onto which the power of Apparition has been charmed. The actual verb is different - Portus instead of Apparate -- but the effect is the same. So I began to experiment with ways to use objects, or charm objects, to make the research endeavour simpler for the students."
"And?"
"It's finally perfected! I got it to work several times in a row in the hour before you sent your Patronus. By the way, is there anything about you that doesn't translate to 'cat'?"
In deference to Hermione's previous rebuff, Minerva held her tongue.
"Anyway," Hermione prattled on, "what the children can do is stand at this lectern, write out the topic they wish to research, and tap the parchment as they recite the incantation. Which I shall translate for them. The appropriate texts will fly off the shelves as per usual, but they shall be gathered in the basket." She beamed, impressed with her own cleverness.
Minerva was impressed, too.
"Do you want to try, Minerva?" Hermione asked, her voice dropping shyly as she spoke the name.
Minerva's nod was brisk. Of course I do. Don't be ridiculous. She stepped up to the lectern. Seeing a parchment and quill already there, she wrote out 'Dietary habits of Boggarts'.
"Really, Minerva? You want to know about the dietary habits of Boggarts?"
"Better their dietary habits than their mating ones," she returned with a smirk.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. The incantation is 'Pono omnes literis de hac chria in hoc cophino' And you must tap the words on your parchment twice at the words 'hac chria to specify the topic of interest."
"But not the basket?"
"No, not the basket. There's only one basket in this library."
Minerva nodded again, this time thoughtfully. Her magical theory is certainly sound.
She followed the steps Hermione had outlined and two books came soaring from the stacks and into the basket. "Excellent!" she exclaimed.
But Hermione frowned. "I forgot to set the override for the Restricted Section. I was certain we had more books on that topic, and they must be in there. Boggart husbandry has got to be a Dark Art, hasn't it?"
"Mind out of the gutter, Madame Granger! I was seeking the dietary, not mating habits, remember?"
The embarrassment stained Hermione's cheeks an attractively deep pink. "Yes, Professor." She caught her own self that time, rolled her eyes and corrected: "That is, yes, Minerva."
For the love of Merlin, I hope this awkwardness doesn't last long.
Read Part 2...
Title: Oot on the Branch, the Fruit is Gey Ripe
Prompt: #63 Submitted by: csi_vixen
Pairing: Minerva/Hermione
Rating: PG (very fleeting expletives)
Warnings: Adult language! Angst! Homophobia! Prolonged UST! Age Disparity=55 years (Hermione's 26, Minerva's 81), AU (Dumbledore lives, Snape doesn't) and EWE. Failure to smut.
Word Count: 11,619
Summary: (Lifted entirely from the prompt!) Hermione could have done anything, had anyone; she is the smartest witch of her age, a war hero, and attractive. So when she comes back to Hogwarts and takes over the Library from Madame Pince, Minerva is concerned. She tries to figure out the reason the girl has withdrawn into the cloisters of the Hogwarts Library, seeking to draw her out, and is drawn in herself instead.
Notes: *AU in that Dumbledore never died, though the majority of Deathly Hallows (sans epilogue) did. Mostly because I didn't want to create a new Headmaster or Headmistress. Lazy author. Also, EWE.
*The title is a phrase that means, "No risk, no reward." It, plus words such as "fesh" (fuss) and "ken" (understand), and a few other Scottish phrases, were gleaned from Scottish Journey. Apologies for any misrepresentation of the Scottish tongue; it's my fault, not my betas'.
*My betas-who-are-not-to-be-named were wonderful, and Britpicked this very carefully. I shall credit them when the reveals are posted. But You-Know-Who's, you are my angels and I love you.
*csi_vixen, I took a LOT of liberty with the prompt. I hope you (and others) like it anyway!
*Also, many thanks to the mods for being so accommodating. You rock!
~*~OOT ON THE BRANCH, THE FRUIT IS GEY RIPE~*~
From the Personal Diary of Minerva C. McGonagall
4th August, 2006
It's still rather queer for me when Albus takes on a former student for a staff position. It's inevitable; the majority of the UK's talented wizards and witches come through Hogwarts. But it wasn't quite so strange when Aurora and Rolanda joined - I had been at Hogwarts with them, but since they were several years younger, they'd learned to respect me as Head Girl before I returned to teach. And they immediately felt more like peers.
In fact, the last time I was so unsettled was when Albus, in a fit of magnanimous forgiveness after the First War, offered Severus asylum in the form of the Potions appointment. Not even twenty-one, and let loose on the children!
But that was then. Water long under my ramshackle bridge, as it were.
Ms Granger H.G. has taken up Irma's old position, and that's certainly a boon for us. She'll almost certainly be kinder to the children than Irma was, and at least as organised. Albus claims she has some 'fascinating' and 'revolutionary' ideas about reorganising the library and its collection.
I am curious, though, as to why she would desire to become a librarian here at Hogwarts. Certainly, the access to research materials is unparalleled, but she has returned to do research several times in the period since her NEWT's. Hogwarts is hardly the place for a young lady to begin building a life.
Well, we'll see what it's about. I've invited our young librarian to afternoon tea tomorrow.
~*~
At precisely three o'clock, the portrait guarding Minerva's quarters announced the arrival of 'Madame Hermione Granger.'
"Let her in, Aine. Mouse tail."
Swinging open, the portrait hole revealed a young woman in robes as prim and conservative as one could buy without seeming to come from an earlier decade. Or century. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, the curls gathered into a luxurious pillow behind her head.
She looked terribly nervous for some reason and was trying to hide it by tightly clutching a small potted plant in front of her. The plant seemed somehow familiar. Perhaps Minerva had seen one on one of those rare occasions of visiting Pomona in the greenhouses. The purple flowers were awfully pretty and carried a very mild scent of mint. Minerva's nose twitched as she took in the odour.
"Hi, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said.
"Minerva," Minerva corrected as Hermione crossed the threshold. "I'm no longer your professor. Do call me Minerva, Miss...Hermione." Minerva chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish.
Hermione echoed the chuckle. "I suppose it will take awhile for all of us to acclimatise to being colleagues. Oh, and before I forget -" she said as she presented the odd plant.
Minerva accepted it, looked at it. "Thank you, but you truly didn't need to carry a gift. It's just tea." And, Minerva thought, taking in the striking businesslike beauty of the woman before her, perhaps the first of many visits you will make to my quarters.
Hermione huffed, though she blushed as she did. "My parents taught me better than that," she asserted. "Manners. One should always bring a gift when visiting someone's home for the first time, especially if the visit is for a meal. And as I don't know what sort of wine or tea you favour," she shrugged, gesturing to the plant Minerva had just lain alongside the tea service on the sitting room's table, "I thought you would appreciate this."
Minerva smiled, charmed by the younger woman's awkwardness. It's good to see she's not all brash intellect and preternatural self-possession. One would never guess from her comportment in public. "I must admit that, while it is lovely," she indicated the blossoms, "I don't quite recognise it. Is it Muggle?" she asked, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself.
"You don't?" Hermione asked, her face betraying something akin to shock.
"No. I was pants at Herbology. Now you know my secret." Minerva took a steadying breath to tamp down her defensiveness.
"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to offend," Hermione said softly, scuffing her shoe a bit on the floor. "It is Muggle, but a great many wizarding folk use it as well."
"What is it, then?" Minerva asked, nodding.
Hermione looked directly at Minerva and her eyes took on a calculating, mischievous look. "Hm. I reckon you'll figure it out eventually." She smiled with deviant innocence, the sort of expression teenagers were particularly adept at. Minerva wondered that the other woman had not put that smile away with other childish things. Then again, she'd not had much of an adolescence to speak of.
"You won't tell me? What if I were allergic?" Minerva protested.
Hermione snorted, snorted at her! "If it were something you knew you were allergic to, you would have recognised the plant. Besides, I've heard certain rumours... I'm certain you'll sort it out."
Minerva glanced again at the plant. It lacked the five-pronged leaf of cannabis, so she surely did not know what sort of 'rumours' Hermione could be referencing.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're impudent?" she muttered as Hermione sat before the plant whilst she played Mother. Raising her voice, she asked, "How do you take your tea, dear?"
"Milk only."
"A woman after my own heart," Minerva commented as she served up two cups of Lady Grey with moderate splashes of milk. She sat. "Help yourself to some sandwiches or pastries. The elves have provided quite the bounty for us today."
She caught Hermione trying not to wrinkle her nose and remembered the fruitless crusade her former student had started to bring freedom to the Hogwarts house-elves. Which reminded her of a question she had been meaning to ask.
"Hermione, why did you decide to leave the Department for Relations with Magical Creatures? You seemed to be making such a difference there."
"Mm." Hermione raised a finger as she swallowed her mouthful of scone and cream. "I made much less headway than it might have seemed, certainly less than I'd hoped. Mostly there were surface changes - like changing the Department's name - but there's not been much movement at all in cultural attitudes." She paused, taking another sip of tea. "It was frustrating, hitting the same brick walls over and over."
Minerva examined the other woman's face, her posture. Something about the explanation seemed a bit off, a bit too rehearsed. "And that's all?" she inquired. "But why take on this position? It can hardly be challenging for a witch of your intellect."
Is she blushing? Is it from being caught out, or something else?
"Well, there is that, but I need some time to regroup, do a bit of my own research that has gone neglected, and, well, you must remember my love affair with books."
Minerva acknowledged that she did with a crisp nod.
"I honestly do want to influence the children, the teens to love and cherish books as well, to see them as friends, as intimate friends, rather than as adversaries. To see the library and its librarian as less adversarial. To nurture their curiosity and their awe by showing how many answers - and stories - they can find and yet still be able to imagine new things, think in new ways."
"You do have the mind of an educator about you," Minerva commented. "Those are ambitious goals."
"I hope the Headmaster might allow me to teach the first- and second-years by House next year. Not yet, of course; not until I've got my bearings and established my authority among the current lot of students. But I can't believe that Wizarding primary schools don't teach library skills at all to the children."
"No," conceded her colleague. "It would be nearly useless, don't you think? Libraries generally don't hold texts that are at the reading levels of primary school students."
Hermione snorted, again, and said, "You do realise that Muggle primary and secondary schools both have their own libraries and secondary students receive library lessons, don't you?"
"No, I didn't, quite," Minerva confessed, shocked. "I, ah, attended Hogwarts before Albus established Muggle Studies as part of the curriculum."
"Well," said Hermione, peering across the table as if she were wearing spectacles and trying to indicate a librarian's disapproval as Irma had done, "I think it's high time for Wizarding libraries to start stocking child-appropriate volumes. It's not as though they couldn't expand the spaces to accommodate the books."
"Why does this seem so critical to you? Hogwarts students have done well enough for the many centuries they've been encountering this library first."
Hermione sighed with a touch of exasperation. "Being in a Muggle mixed library meant that children learned library manners early. We could browse through a good number of books to see what might be interesting, and in the process come across many titles we wouldn't have otherwise seen. We could read books without our parents having to buy them. It also meant that the librarians could guide us on finding books appropriate for our age, assignments, interests, and intelligence. I started being directed to adult-level nonfiction by the time I was nine."
"Swot," Minerva said fondly.
"As if you weren't, Minerva McGonagall?"
"Touché, Hermione Granger." Minerva tried her damndest to conceal the shiver she'd felt in her back when Hermione had addressed her by her full name. This was certainly inconvenient; there had never been any indication, at Hogwarts or since, that Hermione had any interest in women, even the swottiest. Minerva decided to redirect the conversation, get a firm reminder that Hermione Granger, attractive as she was, was not available for Hogwarts' resident 'spinster' to court.
"Might I inquire what happened with you and Mr Weasley?"
"You might," replied Hermione, her eyes narrowed and expression guarded.
"Well, what did happen? Seeing the two of you at Hogwarts, and after the Final Battle, I was certain you'd be married and supporting the lot of them - Ronald, Harry, Ginevra, and any offspring - by now."
That drew a wary, weary chuckle. "Let's just say that Ronald and I weren't as well-matched as we'd thought."
And from there, the conversation devolved into pleasantries.
~*~
I've been thinking more and more about H., about that odd conversation we shared just after she arrived. She is a bonny young lass, and has a wit nearly to match Severus'. Certainly to match mine. Not to mention that we can each teach each other things - it's been so long since I've met a woman whose knowledge differed much from my own and yet interested me.
But still there's no sign she sees me as anything but a friend, and even friendship is hard for me to claim.
I've not seen much of her since that one afternoon.
I believe she only leaves the library to eat and sleep. Irma did the same. I can't help but worry that the library might have some strange power to enthral its keepers.
That's silly paranoia, isn't it! Just because I've not seen as much of H.G. as I would like does not mean that she's under the influence of something nefarious. And she's a smart girl - she can take care of herself.
But that doesn't mean I can't have a standing weekly tea with her...
~*~
"He wants me to start instructing all years. Immediately!" Hermione exclaimed as she fairly flounced into the chair beside Minerva's at breakfast.
"Congratulations, Hermione. That's excellent news, both for you and for the children."
Hermione, however, was visibly disturbed. One might even call her usually unflappable self 'upset'.
"I'm not ready, Minerva! This wasn't the plan!"
Minerva had never seen Hermione Granger so high-strung as a student, though she could well imagine what a nuisance she was to her peers when OWL's and NEWT's came along. She glanced sideways at her young colleague. "Can you not introduce the children to proper library etiquette and to how the Hogwarts library is organised? I know they arrive tomorrow, but surely you can write lesson plans to teach them that much before your first classes start."
"But the library's not organised, not in any discernible way. Yes, the volumes are largely grouped by topic and sometimes even by subtopic, but beyond that there seems to be neither rhyme nor reason! What was Madame Pince thinking?" Hermione drummed her fingers on the table in frustration; the silverware and cups of tea danced a bit in response.
"Most likely that a good search would expose students to a greater variety of information than something easy like alphabetical order would. Also that it would keep students a bit more reliant on her expertise."
"The cow," Hermione said bitterly. "Instead she convinced generations of Hogwarts students that libraries are too intricate to bother learning to navigate. And I suppose that this desire to be the Keepers of Knowledge is why librarians in the Wizarding world have never settled on a standard for organisation?"
"Ah, so you have picked up some sense of magical culture whilst at the Ministry of Magic!"
Hermione threw her hands up. "This still doesn't help me instruct students in three days' time."
"How often will you have to teach them?" Minerva asked.
"Once a week. Throughout three days, as I requested the Houses be split up. That's twenty-eight blocks."
"Oh, tell Albus you'll just take them two at a time. At least then you'll only have fourteen. Or a whole year at once, though that's usually ill-advised. Yes, yes. Speak to Albus, let him know not only that this amount of teaching will distract you and the students from utilising the library, but that you haven't enough time or energy to create curricula in two days, and request whether you might begin lessons in the second week of term. By then at least some of the classes will have assignments that would be helped by research," Minerva suggested, a self-satisfied expression stealing over her face.
"Do you think I might be permitted to teach a few spells?"
"I don't see why not - for the children to use in research?"
"Yes, but also to keep down the roar when they are assigned group work or have independent study groups."
"Confirm it with Albus, of course, but those certainly sound like useful spells in a magical education."
"And I can set essays about the spells." Hermione nodded in satisfaction.
She would be one to relish her license to give homework, Minerva thought.
"I ought to get on this right away." Hermione rose to leave.
Minerva glared. "Sit down, silly girl. You'll waste away and, worse, starve your brain if you keep skipping meals."
Hermione sat but protested, "I can find a bite in the kitchens any time I want." She began to serve herself kippers, eggs, toast, fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.
Minerva raised an eyebrow at the protest, given the volume of food collecting on Hermione's plate. "Och, but do you?"
The other woman's shoulders slumped a bit. "No, I suppose not. Or not enough."
~*~
The students have arrived, and in tending to start-of-term duties I haven't had much time to see how H.G. is faring. And yet, I find myself considering her in my spare time. What keeps her cloistered so?
Once again I observe that the wean seem to be coming smaller and younger every year. This year's crop of Gryffindors, at least, makes those Creevey boys seem like giants. Bless their souls.
~*~
The night before Hermione was to teach her first lessons, Minerva came to the Hogwarts library with an elf-provided assortment of food and drink floating behind her. Her young colleague had not been seen all weekend.
The doors were locked and warded. A simple "Alohomora" would be terribly ineffective. Rolling her eyes, Minerva conjured her Patronus and sent the cat to notify the paranoid librarian of her arrival.
Och, she's as bonny as ever! Minerva thought, mentally slipping into her childhood tongue. I am too far gone for this lass.
Hermione still wore robes almost worthy of a Muggle convent, but had rucked up her sleeves so that her forearms, smudged with ancient dust, were exposed. Her wand rested in her hand, as comfortable as one of those Muggle pencils Charity Burbage had always insisted her students use for class. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and her hair framed her face in wild strands where they'd burst free of Hermione's chignon.
Had Minerva believed in angels, surely they would look like this.
"Minerva!" Hermione sounded more than a little surprised to see her standing there.
"Hermione." Minerva smiled. "You look like you've had some fun in there."
Hermione responded with an almost giddy giggle. "Experimental magic is usually fun," she confided. Her mischievous smile was back, her eyes sparkling to rival Albus' twinkling.
"You plan to experiment on the children? All of them, or just the ones who annoy you?" Minerva asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
Hermione laughed. Not just chortled or giggled, but laughed, the freedom of it making the tightly-bound chuckles Minerva had lately heard seem like joy imprisoned by propriety rather than genuine expressions of humour.
Minerva wanted to hear this laugh more often. "I gather you intend to risk them all, then," she said, hoping to provoke some more.
But Hermione was catching her breath. "You misunderstand, though I'm sure the time will come when I'll be seeking your assistance in such trials. No," she blurted as one last laugh bubbled up from her diaphragm, "I've been working on a modification of one of my research spells, to help the children along until I've got this place properly organised."
"Really," Minerva said, her curiosity piqued. "Might I be permitted a preview?"
"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, and in her excitement took Minerva's hand and dashed into the library, the older woman stumbling behind her.
Minerva felt the beginnings of desire, reciprocated desire, stir in her belly. When Hermione finally stopped, Minerva passed her and jerked her hand, twirling her close as if dancing. Wrapping her other arm around Hermione's waist, Minerva raised the hand that joined them and kissed it.
Hermione stiffened. Then she broke away.
"Professor," she started, but Minerva glared at her. "Minerva. I, ah, I'm terribly sorry if I gave the impression of being, er... interested in...."
Bugger. This is what Gryffindor impulsiveness gets you, Minerva.
"Interested in me? Interested in women? Interested in anything outside this library?" Minerva couldn't help it; her tone became increasingly strident of its own accord.
Hermione took a slow, shuddering breath, all fun gone from her expression. "I am interested in things outside this library," she said quietly. "And I'm... I'm interested in you, in some ways. But I'm not interested in dating women."
"I am sorry to have misinterpreted your actions, then," Minerva said rather stiffly, "and for my obviously unwelcome advances."
Hermione looked at her, her brown eyes shining with tears now.
"If -- Oh bugger it, Hermione. If you no longer want to share this experiment with me, or you don't want to explore friendship, tell me and I'll be gone." Minerva began to rebuild her armour of a stern and professional demeanour, bracing herself to leave the library rejected as a lover and a friend.
"No!" Hermione rushed to speak. "No, Minerva, I very much want to show off what I've been working on, and you're the only one who's shown interest in my work or, really, anything about me, since I've arrived." She looked down, awkwardness suffusing her expression and posture. "If you want to see it, anyway."
Minerva looked at the young librarian; she seemed more dejected than should be called for given that she wasn't the one whose advances were spurned. Sharing this with someone who can appreciate it must mean the world to her.
"Oh, I do," Minerva conceded, and watched Hermione's face take on a bit more life. "Frankly, you've got me unbearably curious. And while curiosity may kill the cat, it does not kill the cat Animagus' human form."
Hermione gave a weak chuckle and glanced sideways at her companion, seeming to consider her response. But she must have decided that there was no more clever way to say what she meant: "Alright, then."
She led Minerva to a lectern with a small step near it - clearly available should one of the smaller students need to look at a book on it. Hanging from a pulley Hermione had rigged from the beams at the ceiling (and how she'd managed that, Minerva did not even want to know) was a fairly large basket.
"When I left Hogwarts for uni, I found that, like this one, the university's library was a shambles. It was near impossible to find anything.
"But I'm a witch, right? I thought I could use magic to solve this problem. So one afternoon, whilst researching the separation of the Centaurs from Wizard-kind, I tried Accio."
Minerva winced. She'd tried the same sort of technique as a Transfigurations student and got several goose eggs for her trouble as the books flew at her. "Were you injured?"
Hermione smiled, though a bit grimly. "Thank you for asking. Yes. I was concussed, and ended up at the uni's infirmary. And in that overnight, I spent a good deal of time thinking about how to improve my method of finding not just books, but the right sort of books." She paused. "And literature beyond just bound volumes. I needed to find or create an incantation that would gather the proper resources without, as they say, clobbering me."
"And what did you come up with?" asked Minerva, who had not heard of any witch or wizard's success in refining the blunt instrument of Accio.
"Well, first I came up with 'Omnes literis de hac chria porto me. And I would state the topic I wanted to research first, and in the language I wanted to read."
Minerva was still intrigued, but raised an eyebrow. "That's clever, but does not solve the flying book problem." She glanced up. Suddenly the hanging basket made some sense.
"Indeed, and yes, the basket was my solution. But when I added the indirect object, both the incantation and the ability to use English as the topic's language failed. Fortunately, my Latin is good enough that, given an adequate dictionary, I could translate the topics into Latin and put my books in the basket."
"I see where this would be an issue for many of our students."
"Yes; from what I remember, the children of the Old Families tended to know a fair bit of Latin, and a few swots like myself were studying independently, but the majority of the students just memorise the incantations they're taught rather than understanding what the actual Latin means."
"Lamentable."
"You can raise the issue with Albus," Hermione returned. "My interest this past week has been creating a way to make the spell work without teaching all the children how to translate on my own."
"Of course," murmured Minerva.
"The solution actually came to me when I was remembering the utter nuttiness of my fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A Portkey. Not that I use a Portkey in here, mind, but the theory behind it. Basically, a Portkey is an object onto which the power of Apparition has been charmed. The actual verb is different - Portus instead of Apparate -- but the effect is the same. So I began to experiment with ways to use objects, or charm objects, to make the research endeavour simpler for the students."
"And?"
"It's finally perfected! I got it to work several times in a row in the hour before you sent your Patronus. By the way, is there anything about you that doesn't translate to 'cat'?"
In deference to Hermione's previous rebuff, Minerva held her tongue.
"Anyway," Hermione prattled on, "what the children can do is stand at this lectern, write out the topic they wish to research, and tap the parchment as they recite the incantation. Which I shall translate for them. The appropriate texts will fly off the shelves as per usual, but they shall be gathered in the basket." She beamed, impressed with her own cleverness.
Minerva was impressed, too.
"Do you want to try, Minerva?" Hermione asked, her voice dropping shyly as she spoke the name.
Minerva's nod was brisk. Of course I do. Don't be ridiculous. She stepped up to the lectern. Seeing a parchment and quill already there, she wrote out 'Dietary habits of Boggarts'.
"Really, Minerva? You want to know about the dietary habits of Boggarts?"
"Better their dietary habits than their mating ones," she returned with a smirk.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. The incantation is 'Pono omnes literis de hac chria in hoc cophino' And you must tap the words on your parchment twice at the words 'hac chria to specify the topic of interest."
"But not the basket?"
"No, not the basket. There's only one basket in this library."
Minerva nodded again, this time thoughtfully. Her magical theory is certainly sound.
She followed the steps Hermione had outlined and two books came soaring from the stacks and into the basket. "Excellent!" she exclaimed.
But Hermione frowned. "I forgot to set the override for the Restricted Section. I was certain we had more books on that topic, and they must be in there. Boggart husbandry has got to be a Dark Art, hasn't it?"
"Mind out of the gutter, Madame Granger! I was seeking the dietary, not mating habits, remember?"
The embarrassment stained Hermione's cheeks an attractively deep pink. "Yes, Professor." She caught her own self that time, rolled her eyes and corrected: "That is, yes, Minerva."
For the love of Merlin, I hope this awkwardness doesn't last long.
Read Part 2...